Oath Breaker: White Roses Under Snow
by Goblin Cat KC
Summary: Severus has been hurt badly in his life. Narcissa fulfills an arranged marriage barely knowing her new husband. They all have to work out their places with each other. Prequel to Oath Breaker, but can be read alone. Lucius x Severus x Narcissa
1. Chapter 1

**White Roses Beneath Snow**

by KC

**Disclaimer**: I don't own none of this.  
**Pairings**: Lucius/Severus and Lucius/Narcissa/Severus  
**Other Info**: Although this takes place years before Oath Breaker I, around the time of Draco's birth, you don't need to read that to understand this one.  
**Summary**: Severus has been hurt badly in his life. Narcissa fulfills an arranged marriage barely knowing her new husband. Both claimed by Lucius, Severus and Narcissa work out their places in the Malfoy family and with each other.

*

**Prologue**

Only his practice with Lucius saved his life. From their duels, Severus recognized the sound of a curse speeding through the air and lunged, and the bricks in the corner of Spinner's End exploded instead of his head. As he turned, spotting his would-be assassin on the other side of the street, he realized his error. He'd been walking before, a moving target, but his charm couldn't deflect a spell sent right at him.

He leaped as the next spell flew towards him, drawing his wand as he fell. A green colored spell blasted the wall above him, and another was following on its heels. Severus leaped forward and cast sectumsempra in the man's general direction, knowing he wouldn't hit but hoping he might drive him back and buy himself a few seconds.

The front door was open. He ducked inside, slamming it shut, but he still felt exposed. Most of the furniture had been sold or burned, too stained with blood to be cleaned, and the curtains had been stripped from the windows, leaving them bare. Sunlight streamed in, and he was all too aware that he was surrounded by little more than glass and old stone.

The house shook. He stumbled into a wall, grabbing the staircase railing for support and running up to the second floor. As he reached the top, the door rumbled in its frame and smashed in, followed by a red curse that blasted the top steps as he cleared them.

Severus turned into the nearest room, his old bedroom. His duffel bag sat on the bare mattress. In a few minutes, he was supposed to meet with Lucius, to move in as his personal potions master. Lucius had assured him it was a traditional role, a patron hiring the services of a master much like an artist or a poet, and a role that Abraxas would know and accept.

Now Severus wondered if Lucius hadn't overestimated his father's embracing of tradition.

"No use running, mudblood! I'll scatter you from here to London!"

Severus raised his wand. How easy it would be to panic, to lose himself in his wild heartbeat and mispronounce the spell. His pursuer came up the stairs, pounding his feet on each step. If Lucius hadn't spent so much time teaching him to duel, he would have waited for the assassin to come through the door and hoped to beat him to the spell. Instead Lucius taught him to turn, to aim through the cheap drywall as if it wasn't there, and cast.

Calm, steady, Severus cast sectumsempra.

The wall cracked and burst outward, followed by a shriek cut off short. Blood splashed the far wall and the ceiling. Dust flew up like white paint in water, slowly settling again and revealing the body.

For a moment, Severus couldn't look away from the corpse cut perfectly in half. Intestines pooled on the stairs. The eyes gazed in eternal surprise at nothing, mouth frozen in a scream.

His first thought was to run far away and never return, not for his own safety but for Lucius. The son of a wealthy pureblood would be better off without a mudblood stone around his neck. The thought of Lucius was what convinced him to stay, though, to stay and immediately apparate to his manor. Abraxas thought nothing of hiring out Severus' death, and he didn't know what punishment might be in store for a wayward heir.

He left his bag behind. He'd only been to the manor once, but he'd gazed at it from the village below many times. It was beautiful, built more like a castle than a house, made of dark gray stone and white columns, surrounded by carefully tended gardens and an iron black fence that kept everyone away.

Lucius had called it dour. Severus thought it looked like paradise, secure, safe and strong.

He apparated not at the front gate but at the side where the trees hid his presence. The fence provided a challenge, being long and tall without ornate decoration to provide a foothold, but he'd been scaling privacy fences for years, trespassing on vast estates to poach the wild berries and toadstools the owners didn't even know they had.

Once he was over, he dropped to the grass and crept along the edge of the fence where the shadows were deep, cast by willows and thick bushes. Were there alarms spelled to go off? He didn't hear anything. The only sound was of birds singing and a cicada singing in the garden. When he neared the back of the house, however, he heard something that he didn't recognize. A whistling, a crack in rapid succession, which repeated over and over.

Someone was near. He had to creep painfully close to see through the bushes without revealing himself. Two voices mingled in the air, one that kept time with the whistling, one that cried out in time with each crack.

Severus saw his lover beneath the balcony, wrists bound to the column. His robe had been torn open and his white linen shirt ripped and stained red by the whip lashing his back. Abraxas threw his entire body into each swing, cursing his worthless heir for cavorting with a mudblood. Lucius tried to grit his teeth and hold back any sound, but his body reeled with each strike.

Only a few days had passed since graduation from Hogwarts, since Severus watched his mother die and killed his father in revenge. Less time since Lucius had found him hiding from aurors, shivering and in shock, promising a home. For days the world seemed like it was spinning violently beneath him and responded in a rage.

His crucio spell flew across the vast lawn, striking Abraxas in the back. As the man went down, shocked silent, Severus came closer, focused on a second crucio spell. Abraxas arched in pain, unable to move.

"Severus..." Lucius mumbled, hanging sickly against the column.

Severus didn't hear him. He cast a third crucio. He wanted the bastard to feel pain, to drown in it, to dig down into the earth and bury himself in an attempt to escape. Could someone rip themselves apart trying to get away from the curse? He would find out.

"Sev!"

At the harsh tone, Severus dropped his wand. He couldn't help it. His mother had scolded him constantly, reaffirming her confidence every time Tobias Snape hurt her, and his father only ever yelled at him. Yielding was simply a conditioned response.

"Severus," Lucius said again, fighting not to scream. "Untie me and give me your wand."

Flinching at the steel in his lover's voice, Severus sliced the ropes apart and handed over his wand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to meet his eyes. "I thought..."

Lucius put his arm over his shoulders, leaning heavily on him. Severus nearly buckled and had to react fast before they both toppled.

"No apologies," Lucius said softly, and now Severus heard his voice trembling. "You did right. But if you kept going, he'd go insane."

He focused on his father, aiming his wand deliberately at his hateful glare.

"And I want him to feel everything that's going to happen."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 1**

In the garden of the Malfoy estate, Severus sat on an iron bench and stared at the small waterfall set in the rocky terrain, the stream magically cascading into a clear pond. Around him, low hedges framed simple topiary and the elegant stone paths long worn smooth from generations of use. Lush grass covered the lawn, dotted by white flowers of every shape and punctuated by trees that were deliberately planted but gave the illusion of growing wild.

Severus tried not to look at any of it.

His tailored outfit, a bit too severely cut for Lucius' taste, was a gift. Also a gift, his second wand lay hidden but pressed against his side. His first wand had been destroyed to hide the evidence of multiple Unforgivables. The book in his lap was ancient and heavy, filled with magic banned long ago, and like everything else, a gift.

Severus cherished each one, cherished living here, but he sometimes felt like he was an ornament as well, another piece for the garden. So much finer than his own home, the Malfoy garden made him feel like a trespasser, a beggar made king for a day.

He would never tell Lucius. He nursed a secret fear that Lucius would laugh, admit that the whole affiar was a grand joke played on a miserable mudblood and then watch in idle, aristocratic amusement as Severus broke apart, crumbled, and yet still followed Lucius like an obedient dog. He knew it wouldn't happen--he was sure of it--but the fear gnawed at him whenever they were apart.

The kitchen door opened and his lover came out, walking with the confident gait of someone who owns everything and everyone they see. As always, a black ribbon held back his hair, and he carried the snake-headed cane that had been his coming of age gift.

He would never tire of looking at Lucius. The youngest Malfoy cut an imposing, striking figure wherever he went. Severus had always admired him, first from afar as a younger student and then as his unlikely lover, and Lucius the boy had not been so enticing as Lucius the man.

The youngest Malfoy was also the last Malfoy. Abraxas had died only a few short weeks ago, drowned in dark magic. The official story was dragon pox, but Severus wondered if they really needed to cover his murder. Abraxas had been wealthy but reclusive after his wife's death, and no one complained about not being notified of his funeral. The disguised corpse in the closed casket had never been revealed, and all portraits of the man had been destroyed, replaced with empty frames.

Sometimes Severus wondered what it was like to drown in dark spells. Abraxas had writhed, thrashed in his dirt, glaring breathlessly at his son and his mudblood lover. The violence of darkness covering his skin like a plague, boiling out of his mouth, leaking from his eyes--Severus had turned from the horror and stood behind Lucius, who watched as his father died. Lucius made no complaint when Severus pressed against his back, even though the whip strokes had still been raw.

The pain of the whipping robbed any sympathy or feeling from Lucius, who watched Abraxas drown without a word. The sheer silence of it, the light sound of fingers scraping stone and the single cicada in the distance, was worse than any screaming.

Severus lightly touched his arm where the dark mark lay. Lucius had warned him to get used to hearing screams. He had his doubts about Voldemort's leadership, but if Lucius served the dark lord, then of course Severus would follow suit. If only to catch Lucius when it all went to hell.

Not that he thought Lucius needed catching. Even with fading welts across his back, Lucius still managed to run the estate, manage their finances, and keep up with the Ministry and the Governing Board for Hogwarts. And finalize the last details of his wedding to Narcissa.

From the first day, Severus had known about the marriage arranged years ago between the Malfoys and the Black family. He couldn't change that. When Lucius had protected him at school, had brought him to the manor and lavished him with tailored robes and gifts of rare books, eventually taking him to his bed, Lucius had never considered breaking off the arrangement. If Lucius wanted two lovers, that was his privilege.

Severus knew that he wouldn't have Lucius to himself, just as he knew that he could leave at any time. Lucius would follow for awhile, but he was no monster. He would let go if Severus truly wanted. They both knew that Severus wouldn't leave. Couldn't.

Lucius sat beside him and kissed his forehead, straightening a nonexistant kink in Snape's collar as an excuse to touch him. Smiling, he gently drew a dry leaf from Severus' hair, blown there by the summer breeze. Severus self-consciously ran his hand through his hair.

"She'll be here tomorrow," Lucius said, plunging straight into the matter. "You will try to get along with her, won't you?"

Severus nodded without a word. He had met her only once, silent at Lucius' side while the two purebloods signed a contract of marriage and discussed terms of properties. He had barely been mentioned, but her glance flinching at him had been cold, narrow. Lucius had behaved as if Severus was another bit of property to be declared, and Severus had not protested.

Narcissa worried him. Her eyes were quick and all-seeing, and the stiffness of her posture when she found out that he was a potions-master--

Severus breathed out.

"I should finish setting up the workshop," he said. "We'll need it soon."

"True," Lucius said. "I'm relieved that she was realistic about her own limitations. Some women become quite unreasonable when it's mentioned that they can't bear children."

Severus glanced at him from the corner of his eye. This was not the first time Lucius had praised Narcissa in such terms. For all his political insight, Lucus could be painfully naive about other people. Sometimes he wondered how Lucius had survived so long without him.

Some women hide it better than others, Severus thought, but he didn't speak it out loud.

"I saw the dragon's blood you left in my workshop," Severus said instead, giving Lucius a faint smile. "You're a godsend."

"Not at all. I just thought you might like it."

False humility. Severus didn't buy it for a moment. If he hadn't thanked him, Lucius would have sulked and felt anxious for days, wondering if Severus had grown spoiled or if the dragon blood had been useless or if Severus was angry with him.

"When will she arrive?" he asked. "Early?"

"I don't think so," Lucius said. "She'll likely come at mid-morning, no doubt with all her luggage and things."

Malfoy Manor was large, the largest building he'd ever been in aside from Hogwarts, but Severus wondered if they would have enough room for what she would bring. He knew from experience with Lucius how much property a pureblood could accumulate. It felt so extravagant, their abundance of clothes and jewels and furniture and other things, especially to someone who had never had more than enough to fill a suitcase.

"I'll see you at dinner?" Lucius asked, touching his hair again. "Shall I send for you then?"

"Please," Severus nodded. "I'm sure I'll be too lost in my work to remember."

"As you wish," Lucius said. "Just don't blow yourself up, that's all I ask."

Severus smiled and didn't reply. Lucius had never advanced far in potions, being much more adept at charms and curse, and several school accidents left him frustrated with cauldrons and ingredients. He could buy them, but only as gifts.

Always reluctant to leave Lucius' side, Severus forced himself to take his book and retreat into the manor, walking through the hall of family portraits. Most of them barely cast a look at him, returning to their whispered conversations. They were the ears and eyes of the Malfoy family, kept in offices where the family had donated money and gathering information for Lucius alone. Not that they would have refused to help Severus in an emergency, but tradition stated that only the patriarch of the family could demand answers of them, and Severus had never stepped over the boundaries of tradition.

Space remained along the wall for several more portraits, but only an empty frame hung where Abraxas Malfoy should have been. The portraits knew why it wasn't there. The whipping and the murder afterward had been clearly visible through the floor to ceiling windows on this side of the house.

Severus wasn't sure why the portraits never whispered slurs at him. The rest of the family was either too well brought up to sully themselves like that, or else they thought he was a useful tool. A potions master of his skill living at Lucius' beck and call? They understood having menials living in the house, and they understood that the master occasionally might indulge his baser needs with a servant.

He usually avoided the hall altogether, but it was the quickest route to the dungeon. Around the corner and down the east wing, the oak paneling and thick carpet stopped at the last door at the end of the corridor. The heavy brass key jutted from the lock and the door hung slightly ajar. There was no need to lock it, but he appreciated Lucius' overture. If Severus ever wanted privacy, he had only to close the door, lock it behind him, and he could disappear in his work.

There was no wallpaper beyond the door. Gray stone made up the walls and the steps. A few iron torches flared to life as he passed by, giving just enough light so he wouldn't fall. The stairs twisted to the right, taking him to a room about to overflow with corked bottles, broad jars and cabinets of poison vials.

His cluttered desk stood at the far end of the dungeon, covered in recipes, old books and pages he'd copied out of the grimoire. Sidestepping a stack of books and a box of empty bottles, he crossed the room and stuffed the papers he knew he wouldn't need into its drawers, putting the books in neat order and setting out the recipe he would be following for the near future.

Several copies already lay scattered about, but this parchment was the master copy, which he kept at hand in easy reach. He'd memorized it as well, but he wouldn't risk his lover's child to a fault memory. A baby made in a cauldron was the true test of any dark wizard's craft, and he wanted to present a perfect child and show he was worth all the attention Lucius had lavished on him.

He'd already cleaned and prepared his favorite cauldron, a cast iron size 40 that stood three feet high and three feet wide. He had the sage, feverfew and heather dried and measured to smoke the cauldron and prepare it for the blood and spells to come. Everything was ready except his nerves.

As always when he couldn't think, he sorted his ingredients. Peacock feathers, hen's teeth, catoblepas paws, peryton horns, human bones, a calcified fetus, and a mess of new supplies he hadn't had time to examine all needed sorting. Poisoned dragon liver, werewolf hearts, mermaid flesh that didn't rot, among a myriad of other delights--he had them organized by habitat, animal, plant, and rarity. Other masters would have killed for his collection. One had tried, which brought him to his most prized shelf, the jars that held human tissue and organs.

Abraxas was not on these shelves. As spiteful as Lucious could be, he would not allow his father to be used for parts. Severus had done his best to imitate surprise that his lover could even think that of him, and he thought he'd been convincing. Lucius had apologized for suspecting him, after all.

Instead he had the eyes, brain and other pieces of Caradoc Dearborn, a foolish member of the Order of the Phoenix who'd wanted his rarest specimens. He tapped the glass so the eyes would blink. Severus took some comfort in knowing how the slow attrition of their numbers left the Order in despair.

His hand dropped back to his side. Much like the loss of Rosier and Wilkes had struck him when he first heard. He counted very few friends for himself, and while they had not been close schoolmates, they had provided a measure of safety. No Gryffindors tortured him when he stood with another Slytherin.

Sometimes he laughed at the irony. Dumbledore claimed that there was no difference between half-bloods and purebloods, but Snape had never been brutalized by a pureblood.

He frowned. Except for Abraxas, and the old man didn't count. Not when he'd whipped his own son.

Severus sometimes thought that the scars on Lucius' back frustrated him more than Lucius. The marks hadn't faded, no matter what kind of salves or potions he tried. And while Lucius insisted it didn't matter, Severus noticed how he never exposed his back, even in the bedroom.

He shook his head.

The workshop was still disorganized and daydreaming did nothing to fix that.

Professor Slughorn had often moaned as if managing his ingredients was a chore, but Severus loved it. And since he never had money to buy ingredients, he learned to pilfer the best from Slughorn's poorly secured supply, easily creating acids from the materials in class that he used to burn the locks on his cabinets. If any Slytherins were punished with going into the Forbidden Forest to search for ingredients, he switched with them. If any were given detention in sorting Slughorn's stores, he put on a glamour or used polyjuice to take their place. As he increased his collection, he became indispensable to his schoolmates.

Lucius' first gift had been a small jar of dragon's blood. No more than a few ounces, it had sat on the shelf of Soulis' Potions Supply for months, for sale for more galleons than he'd ever have. He wondered how long Lucius had known he wanted it, if Lucius had watched him pass the display window with a longing glance. Dragon blood was some of the hardest for a potions master to get his hands on. The thimblefuls he received were difficult even for Lucius to buy.

Although Lucius thought that the dungeon was a gloomy, cramped place for a workshop, Severus thought it was convenient and wise to store valuable or dangerous materials in a dungeon where he could lock an imposing door of iron bars. He didn't need sunlight or any light beyond a few candles.

He had almost finished his work when Dobby appeared, summoning him to dinner. The elf gingerly held a hand against its side. No doubt Lucius had kicked it again. Severus waved it away before the clumsy creature could stumble into something delicate.

First a shower, then robes that didn't have dust all over them. And then he would savor this last night he had Lucius alone.

"""""""""""""""""""

The wedding went beautifully.

Severus made sure he wasn't anywhere near it.

Ensconced in his workshop, he touched the tip of a piece of ash tree to his candle until it smoked, then set the piece inside the cauldron. The gray smoke lay on the bottom, slowly curling up the sides. Once the wood was consumed, another piece would be set on top of it, and another, and another, until the cauldron was purified. The process was painfully slow, but the more thorough the job now, the better chance the child had to come to term.

It also gave him a good excuse to hide from Narcissa.

Her cold eyes had swept over the manor, the grounds and himself, calculating the worth of each. He was sure he came up lacking, the mudblood at Lucius' side like a loyal dog, to be tolerated and ignored at all times. He didn't think she remembered him from Hogwarts. She and the other older students had been idols to the rest of them.

Leaving the next piece of wood to burn, he went to his desk and picked up a hand mirror he had stolen from the attic. Made of brass, it looked like a cheap trinket that had somehow fallen in amongst someone's old clothes and jewelry. He would have felt guilty for using something of Lucius' without permission, but he needed comfort, even cold comfort.

He held it to his face. Instead of his reflection, he saw Lucius sitting side by side with Narcissa on the same garden bench, shaded by the flowering trees. They both held the knife blade in their hands, with blood trickling down the blade as they spoke their quick vows. Severus couldn't hear them. He was thankful for that.

They looked at each other awkwardly, their gaze flickering towards their faces before lowering again. The marriage had been arranged since they were children, but they had not been in each other's small circle of friends or accomplices. They had only a handful of play dates and a couple of shared classes between them.

He touched her face. She shied away out of surprise. His hand lowered, and Severus could tell that she was apologizing. Then Lucius shook his head with a smile.

"So you're giving her the 'only when you're ready' speech," Severus whispered. "And now the gift?"

Lucius was nothing if not predictable. He brought out a neatly wrapped box with a white bow and let her open it, revealing a necklace like a delicate spider's web, with crystal teardrops placed where the gold chains met. It sparkled in the sunlight as he set it around her neck.

Closing his eyes, Severus set aside the mirror. Tradition dictated the next part of the wedding, but either Narcissa would yield to Lucius' charms right then--which he did not care to watch--or she would shyly balk, and Lucius would then take her to dinner. Severus knew that his lover had reserved a place at the Wild Hunt in Knockturn alley. Either way, he didn't plan on seeing Lucius for the rest of the day. Perhaps the week.

The rest of his own day was spent cleansing the cauldron. Seated at his desk with his head propped on his arm, he drowsed until the clock on the wall chimed ten o'clock. He added the handful of milkweed, dandelion seeds and ground juniper berries, then covered the cauldron so the smoke would coalesce.

The next half an hour would be his only break for the next twelve, so he went upstairs and quietly made his way to the kitchen. A lone elf stood on a footstool washing dishes, and she cringed as he went by. As he opened the pantry, wondering what would make a good quick meal, he heard the soft clink of a plate being set on the counter beside him. He leaned back and saw a dish of roast duck and a glass of wine.

"Is this mine?" he asked.

"The master said to keep your plate ready," she nodded. "It's what they had for supper."

He schooled his face to remain impassive. So they hadn't gone out. He took the plate back to the workshop, murmuring "excellent service" over his shoulder as he went.

Three days passed the same way. Every few hours, sometimes every fifteen minutes, the clock roused him from his desk. A cup of spring water, a dash of snail shells, snips of a snake's tail, stir counterclockwise for five minutes, adding a half turn back for each full. He kept a wash basin in the corner and used it to rinse the sleep from his eyes, afraid he might forget an ingredient as he read and re-read the recipe between each step.

"Elf," he finally muttered as the clock struck three in the morning. There was no reply, but they sometimes took two or three calls to hear their summons. "Filly?"

She appeared with a small pop, carrying a tray that she set beside him, then looked up, expecting a command.

"That'll do, thank you."

Severus barely noticed her eyes widen as she made a quick bow and disappeared again. As he began eating, a fancy light soup that he barely tasted and that did little to ease his hunger, he realized his error. No one said "thank you" to elves except other elves. Grumbling at himself, he finished off the soup just as the clock ordered the next step.

No wonder he'd said thank you. As he added to his mortar freshly ground baby's teeth--naturally fallen from children's mouths, as any remains of dead infants were poison to this potion--he reflected that he felt a little like a house elf.

A week after the wedding, Severus slipped upstairs to the bedroom. He didn't know why he should walk so quietly, glancing into halls and up stairs before going on. Lucius had assured him that this was still his home. That he belonged in Lucius' bed.

When he walked into the master bedroom, he found Narcissa's dresses flowing out of the closet onto the chair and writing desk, covering the bed. He stared for a moment, and despite how he had prepared himself for this sight, he was amazed at how much smaller the room felt. He felt crowded, and for a moment he couldn't breathe.

His copy of _Edeon's Treatise on Belladonna as Cure_ should still be beneath the bed. He didn't think either of them had noticed. Lucius tended to fall asleep quickly--he shoved the thought away and knelt at the right side of the bed, but when he raised the bedskirt, there was nothing. Standing slowly, he tried to remember if he'd taken the book with him.

"Oh!"

His heart froze. He turned his head just enough to see Narcissa at the door of the walk-in closet, one of her dresses in her hands. Neither moved.

"My apologies," he said without looking at her. "I thought I was alone."

"It-it's all right," she said, turning back to the closet. "It's your room as well. I assume you'll be returning each night now?"

With her surprise gone, there was only steel in her voice.

"No," he assured her. "I need to remain in the workshop. I only came up for my book, but I seem to have misplaced it. I'll leave you to your--"

"Book?" she asked. "Was that yours under the bed?"

"You found it?" he asked, his want for it overriding his nervousness and letting him face her.

"Yes, my first night," she said. "Were those your notes in the margins?"

At his quiet nod, she took a second look at him. He'd seemed no more than her husband's plaything before, pleasant to look at if he'd wash the smoke and residue from his hair, a little more talented than most at potions. But the notes in the book had been nothing short of inspired. She'd delighted in reading them, reeling at the possibilities they opened to her.

She set her dress down and went to the desk, pulling the small book from a drawer. Reluctantly she handed it over.

"Do you write in everything you read?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so," he apologized. "I've left my mark in most of Lucius' books."

"Really?" She made a note to visit the library and see exactly what he'd written.

"Forgive me," he started, "but while I'm here I should ask for a cup of your blood. The first offering of your blood needs to be soon, and--"

"Of course," she said, quickly turning and folding her dress. "I'll let Lucius know as well."

Her comment stung, even if she didn't mean it to. She would see Lucius first, wouldn't she? He was lucky to catch a glimpse of his lover in his mirror. Nodding quietly, he whispered his thanks and left the bedroom.

He decided he would not go back.

It was for the best, he thought, when he arranged the pillow and blanket in the corner of a dungeon cell. He'd had to move his smaller shelves of spider and insect parts, positioning it in front of his rarely used store of dried flowers, but the makeshift bed gave him a clear view of the cauldron.

It bubbled reassuringly now, swirling dark red with white streaks. The white never mixed into the red, never lightened the shade. Severus took heart at that. He'd never brewed a child before, and he shuddered at the thought of ruining Lucius' son.

Or daughter, he reminded himself, but he felt sure it was a son. He didn't know why. There was no way to know until the last moment of the process, when the infant would float to the surface and hold out its hands.

"Decided to remain here?"

Severus stood too quickly. He grew dizzy and put a hand on the wall to steady himself, and then Lucius was holding his waist, putting a hand behind his head.

"You look pale," he said softly. "More than usual, I mean. And your eyes..."

His thumb traced the circles under Severus' eyes, brushing his cheek. For a moment Severus allowed himself to indulge, forgetting only for an instant the wife upstairs. But then he gave a slight shake of his head.

"It's tiring, that's all," he said, taking a step back and slipping out of his hands.

He stood beside the cauldron, looking down. The white swirls were fading. It'd be time to add the blood soon.

"You should come upstairs when you need rest," Lucius said, but he sounded different than usual, confused and at a loss.

"It's best if I stay here," Severus said, busying himself in gathering a vial and his knife from the desk. "In case something happens."

Lucius came close again, standing flush beside him and touching the corner of his mouth, turning him to face him. Severus allowed himself to be moved, allowed the kiss that followed. He didn't push for more, and Lucius let his hand fall.

"Give me your hand," Severus breathed.

"I already have," Lucius said, confused. Then he noticed Severus' knife. "Ah."

Rolling up his sleeve, he presented his forearm, holding still as Severus made the cut. Deep, blood welled up and ran down into the vial beneath it. When it was nearly full, Severus charmed the wound to heal, adding a touch of dittany to stop any scarring.

"The next batch will be in a week's time," Severus said, corking the vial and setting it aside. "If you want, I could--"

"What I want," Lucius said, seizing his shoulders and making him face him, "is for you to take care of yourself. You'll make yourself sick--"

"I'm fine," Severus insisted. "And if I did fall ill, I can make myself well again down here."

"Severus--"

"Lucius, please."

Finally pulling free, Severus turned away and refused to look at him again. To his despair and his relief, Lucius did not press any further. He raised his hand, hesitated, and let it fall in defeat.

"As you will," Lucius said quietly and left the workshop.

Severus remained where he stood for several minutes afterward. Only when the clock chimed the half hour did he move, taking the candle from his desk to the cauldron. Careful to tip the candle and drain the melted wax first, he then touched the burning wick to the bubbling mix inside. The fire spread like a ripple across the surface of the cauldron, and the dark red color became amber.

He set the candle aside again. Barely a week into the process and he was already tired. He wondered what he would look like when the child was ready.

"You didn't use a wand," Narcissa whispered.

Severus froze. Was this what startled cats felt? If he'd had a tail, it would have puffed up three times its size. He really needed to put a bell on that door.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked when he'd recovered.

"The flame," she said, coming closer and standing over the cauldron. "You didn't follow the process, using mistletoe and your wand to transfer the flame. You just touched it and it went."

"Mistletoe isn't necessary," he said, feeling the need to defend himself. "Brewed children die most often because of cross-contamination, and if I can reduce the chance--"

"Where did you learn that?" she asked.

It was impossible to read her face. Severus had never been comfortable around women, or indeed most people, and he was still learning to read their emotions. Any time someone had looked at him so intently, they were angry and wanted something from him. But there was no anger in her voice.

"I was told it was impossible to transfer flame like that," she said, stepping so close that he could catch the scent of her rose perfume. "That it was just exaggerations the old masters wrote down in their journals to make themselves seem better."

"Who told you that?" he asked. In the midst of his confusion, it was easier to focus on what was familiar to him.

"All my tutors," she said. "And Professor Slughorn was rather adamant--"

"That self-important fool doesn't know half of what he thinks he does," Severus said before he could stop himself. "He thinks he has talent but he can't even read the damn formulas."

She backed away, surprised by his reaction. As she did, she noticed the labels on the jars on the nearest shelf. The amount of his supplies had seemed excessive to her when she first walked in. Most potion masters only used half the space he did, with their rarest prizes locked safely away in cupboards. But she saw poisoned dragon liver, sea serpent's fangs and Hungarian Horntail scales lined up beside wyvern claws and asp's venom.

She glanced around at his shelves again. Four rooms full, if the cells counted as rooms, and she suspected that the cupboards were less to hide away rarities and more to safeguard things that lost their potency in the light.

This was no vain wizard pretending to be a master.

"What do you mean he doesn't know anything?" she asked, carefully gauging his response. "He's the Hogwarts potions professor. That honor isn't offered to many people."

"If that's true, then it's a wonder anyone can make cold medicine, let alone something complicated," he said.

"His potions are successful more often than mine," she said. Hurt welled up in her voice. "I follow the recipes exactly but I still can't..."

She gazed at the cauldron and then closed her eyes.

Severus stared. Such a change appeared before him. This was not the pureblood that had sat across from Lucius to sign the marriage contract. There was no arrogance in her posture, no disdain or cruelty. She turned from him then, gazing at the ingredients along the walls.

"Fairy dust, pixie dust, vampire dust," she whispered. "No stores sell these. You gather your own. You really are like those old masters, aren't you?"

"My creations don't have poetic names," he argued feebly.

"But you can create your own recipes," she said without asking. It was obvious.

Her desire warred against the indelicacy of demanding to know how Severus did it. He could hear it. That, at least, he understood. He understood wanting to know and he understood the frustration when he could not.

And she was Lucius' wife. She was a part of his lover. To make her happy would make Lucius happy.

"I can show you," he said.

She drew back from the jars as if burned.

"I don't require pity," she whispered.

Severus also understood wounded pride. Lucius had worked to undermine his perverse pride in being poor, his refusal to accept gifts as charity, his belief that someone paying for him meant he owed them. Narcissa had never been poor in her life, but the frustration was the same.

"I wouldn't do it out of pity," he said. "But perhaps Lucius was right when he said I can't stay here forever. I can't take care of the child if I'm too sick. Your help would be appreciated."

She didn't speak, weighing his words. He knew why. Both of them were used to lies and manipulation, even in their own families. Especially in their own families. He imagined that the Black family simply kept their voices down and refrained from smashing each other into the floor when they did it.

"And you also are free from the responsibilities of being a knight," he added. "If we're called away, you have to stay here with the cauldron."

"I serve the Knights of Walpurgis as well as you," she said, putting her hand to her heart as if stung.

"I don't question that," he said quickly. "But I've practiced with Lucius, and I still feel like I weigh him down in a fight. Forgive me, as I have no idea how well you duel..."

Sarcasm was a risk. She stiffened, and for a moment Severus thought he'd have a demonstration of her dueling right then. But her mouth quirked into a strange sort of smile and she lowered her head, thinking. Nodding once, she looked back up at him.

"Very well. Teach me what you can, and in my spare time I'll continue reading your notes in the library," she said. Her smile widened. "And when you're attending the cauldron, I'll badger Lucius into improving my dueling."

When did he feel comfortable enough to smile in return? Not a true smile, not even a cocky smirk like the one she was wearing. A faint, indulgent upturn to his mouth--the same kind he was used to giving Lucius.

"You couldn't ask for a better teacher."

"In dueling or in potions?" she asked.

"Both." He picked up his knife and beckoned her closer. "Now you came here for a reason."

Grimacing, she pushed back the tight sleeve of her dress and offered her arm. As he held her arm to keep her steady, he was surprised at how soft her skin was, how warm she felt this close. He schooled his face not to react to the rough patches at her elbow, the evidence of scarring on her forearm. No wonder she wore long sleeved dresses.

He didn't hide his look well enough.

"No scars of your own?" she asked in clipped tones.

"None so easily visible," he answered. "Mine fall higher on my arms and along my back."

"As does...as does our husband's," she said softly.

Blood fell across on her skin like dark red lace. She held still better than Lucius had, and made no sound when he healed the wound. Taking care that no blood was left, she pushed down her sleeve and buttoned the cuff again, arranging the ruffle just so.

"He worries about you, you know," she said.

"I know."

He corked the vial and set it by Lucius'. Her gaze swept the desk, the poisons he kept there, the glass of water for his own use and the parchment and quill for notes and recipes. She wondered if the reason she found so little of his belongings in the manor was because most of them were down here.

"I don't suppose you might let me--" she started, but the clang of the doorbell interrupted her.

They both started and exchanged a glance, but they could tell neither expected anyone. Fear pushed out any other thought. Lucius had many acquaintances in the Ministry and the influential families, but he would have told them if he expected guests, and any of their fellow Knights would have announced themselves by floo. Narcissa put her hand into a concealed fold of her dress, grasping her wand but not yet withdrawing it. They hurried up the stairs and Severus sealed the door, locking it and camouflaging it to match the wallpaper.

As they came into the hall of portraits, the closest figure, marked "Jeannete de Malfoi," turned and whispered to them to ask if the workshop was concealed. At his nod, she turned and looked down the hall to try to glimpse their visitor.

Lucius was already at the main door. As the bell rang again, he spotted them and held up his hand, motioning for them to stay hidden. Narcissa moved behind the corner, careful to keep out of view from the nearby windows. Severus drew his wand and knelt behind the cabinet. They both held their breath as he opened the door.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 2**

Neither of them recognized the voices that followed, though that wasn't unusual. Lucius had many acquaintances in the Ministry and the influential families. But he would have told them if he expected guests, and any of their fellow Knights would have announced themselves by floo.

"Gentlemen, how unexpected," Lucius said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The response was inaudible. They could only hear Lucius' reply.

"I see. How unfortunate that you have no warrant--"

Lucius darted back at the same time he drew his wand. It was their only warning as he deflected a spell and countered with his own.

Narcissa turned and threw open the window, casting a jet of flame towards whoever stood on the doorstep. She heard their scream and saw a flurry of motion as two people leaped backwards, two rushed forwards.

Severus recognized the men only as aurors. Cold chills ran through him as he cast an expelliarmus, ripping their wands from their hands.

Lucius followed with a killing curse, startling Severus. Another curse flew from Narcissa, killing at least one more auror.

Severus took a step back. What consequences would there be for killing aurors, even in self-defense? The Ministry hated dark wizards--would they have to run? Leave the country? He knew that it was war between the Ministry and the dark--Lucius had told him several times--but to have it thrust suddenly in his face--

A crash the hall of portraits made him turn. Another auror was climbing through a broken window, but when she looked up, she saw him and she gasped in shock. She aimed her wand, but she was too slow in casting her spell.

As her mouth formed the words, he was already casting his first killing curse. Drawn from his fear, the sickly green light shot out and struck her full. Her surprised eyes still stared at him as she lay slumped over the jagged glass.

"Severus, are you--?"

Narcissa stopped short when she spotted the body in the window. Ducking behind a curtain, she scanned the grounds as far as she could see, but there was no one else. With a sigh, she shook her head.

"Trying to surprise us from the rear. They probably thought it was just Lucius and I, not...Severus?"

She looked at him in concern. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn't help staring at the dead auror. He'd watched as her eyes turned glassy, staring at him and then at nothing.

"First kill?" Narcissa asked without needing to.

She touched his shoulder and gently turned him aside, breaking his fixed look from the body. He shook his head, trying to clear the daze.

"I'm fine," he said. "It just caught me off guard."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but Lucius called them to help repair the damage of Narcissa's flames and the scorchmarks of the killing curse on the marble floor. Severus scolded himself that there was no time for indulging in shock and cleaned his own kill, removing the blood from the window and repairing the glass as best he could. Then they had to levitate the bodies from the foyer to the sitting room, layering them in the fireplace.

The first time Severus had seen the fireplace, with its brass wyvern statues with pokers in their claws, he'd thought it overly ostentatious, even for Malfoy manor. Now he understood why it was so large.

"What were they here for?" Narcissa asked, throwing the last body onto the stack. "I heard something about a warrant."

"Hardly," Lucius said. "Scrimgeour's lackeys. I outmaneuvered him on the heirloom act--"

He saw their blank looks and sighed in exasperation.

"The Heirloom and Artifact legislation? Where they can't throw us in prison because of inherited property? The one I've been talking about for the past month?" He frowned and didn't give them a chance to say anything.

"Nevermind. I managed to get it passed, but the loophole doesn't go into effect until next week. I'm sure Scrimgeour wanted to try to find something on us before then so we could all be imprisoned."

Taking a few steps back from the pile of corpses, Lucius cast a fyria rabaena, wrapping the ribbon of light around the bodies and allowing the spell to slip from his control. Instead of bursting, the sparks became a column of fire and smoke that disappeared up the chimney.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you these for parts," Lucius apologized. "But they have to be ashes by the time Scrimgeour comes sniffing around."

"Does that even matter?" Severus asked, watching the bodies melt and burn. "He'll know they were here. He'll know we must have killed them."

"He'll know," Lucius nodded. "But they had no warrant. There's no way this was an official visit, so I doubt anyone else knows they were here. Legally, he can do nothing."

"Illegally?"

"Nothing they haven't done to us for years," Narcissa said.

The rest of the conversation dwindled into warnings about keeping silent and playing dumb if anyone ever asked them any questions. Severus nodded, accepting a kiss from his lover and forgetting for a moment that Narcissa was in the room as well. The comfort was needed, even if Lucius hadn't noticed that he was shaken.

Severus didn't begrudge him not noticing. Lucius was swamped with politics. No doubt he was already scheming to turn this assault to his advantage.

Excusing himself, he returned to his workshop, pausing only to reassure the portrait of Jeannette that all was well. As he revealed his workshop door, however, he felt a light touch on his arm, and he paused.

"Sometimes we forget that converts don't have the nightmares," Narcissa said softly. "We aren't shocked by killing, but we still feel sick when we make our first kill. I promise it gets easier with time."

"I don't want it to get easier," Severus said. "I hate fighting. I hate how I feel afterward."

"Ah, c'est la guerre," she said and gave him a nudge. "Be happy we won."

"And earned the enmity of a deputy auror," he grumbled. "Who knows how powerful he may be someday? He may come back with a warrant, or maybe just with a dozen more aurors."

"Are you always so morose?" she said with a sigh. "My poor, poor child--I hope he won't take after you too much."

"What?" He stared incomprehendingly. "I don't--"

"No confidence in yourself," she scolded. "When I came into this house, I didn't think I'd be given a night alone with Lucius, and here I find that you not only cede him to me, you give up everything but your workshop, where you even create my own child for me. Someone hurt you very much in the past, didn't they?"

That came far too close to the truth, and he averted his eyes out of instinctual caution before he remembered he didn't have to. She was no legilimens, but he would have wondered otherwise if he didn't keep himself so guarded all the time.

"Narcissa--"

"'Cissa," she corrected. "Only my mother calls me Narcissa. And as I was about to say, you do plan on adding your own blood to that cauldron, yes? I'd feel more secure knowing that my child is related to one of the men caring for him."

"I'm sorry," Severus said. He put his hand on the door, unwilling to look at her. "But you wouldn't...you wouldn't want my blood in your child."

She didn't answer for a moment. He wanted to slam his hand against the door. How hard it was to admit it! He could renounce Tobias Snape, but to be rid of the bastard's blood? Impossible. In every way his father continued to hobble his steps. How could he admit it? He had to, but he didn't want to see her face twist in disgust.

"I'm..." he tried to say it, but it stuck in his throat. "I'm not..."

"I'm not so sheltered," she interrupted, "that I don't know what's said about purebloods. Inbred, weak-minded, sickly. As if they're any better. As if muggles are anything but animals. I've seen the half-bloods in Hogwarts--arrogant upstarts who've never seen a wand before and then demand we change our traditions to suit their whims. You know one of them actually told me that my fairy wing earrings were cruel?"

"You could say that about most of our ingredients," Severus said, hoping he could change the subject, still facing the door. "Ours and theirs."

"Yes, ours," she said. "And you are one of ours. You wouldn't understand, being a convert, but when you killed that auror--"

Her voice hitched. A few seconds passed before she got hold of herself again, blinking too fast.

"It isn't done. Muggles hunted us, and Ministry wizards never defend us. Never. The only people we can count on are other dark wizards. So it doesn't matter to me who Tobias Snape was. I am blessed with two pureblood husbands."

She put her hand on his cheek, making sure he faced her in his surprise.

"Be sure that my son is blessed with two fathers as well."

As she turned, walking away before her emotions overwhelmed her, it came to his mind that he'd never told her who his father was, and that there was no way to know what gender the child would be. He watched her disappear around the corner. He often wondered if witches had their own secrets and spells that they had never shown the men, and likely never would.

The days passed without incident after that. Although Severus still did not venture upstairs, it was not because he couldn't face Narcissa and Lucius together. Indeed, it was impossible not to run into them anymore. The brush with death or imprisonment had Lucius bringing home gifts of jewelry and ingredients and robes and more, until the workshop spilled over into the greenhouse, which Narcissa quickly took over.

All the recipes and formulas and techniques that Severus taught her had to be practiced in the greenhouse simply because none of them would risk accidental contamination with the cauldron. The occasional explosion bore out those worries, but the explosions grew less and less until, as the weeks of brewing came to the final days, she prepared a vial of felix felicis that Severus' could find no fault with.

No matter how much he tried.

So when she came to him with an idea of a vanishing cream to remove scars, he didn't scoff at her outright.

"I've toyed with the idea," he admitted, not looking at her as he carefully stirred the last drop of blood into the cauldron. "But nothing I've made is strong enough to remove old scars. Or deep ones. Not completely."

"And I know why," she said, coming around so he had to see her. "You couldn't get the right parts."

He straightened as he set the empty jar aside. There would be no more need for blood. In less than a week's time, all the work of bringing the child to term would end. Then he processed what she had said.

"What do you mean, 'the right parts'?" he repeated.

"You had to use snake and wyvern parts," she said, leaning forward now that she had his attention.

"They're traditional," he said. "The shedding of their skin--"

"I know, I know," she said. "I read the same books you do, remember? But if you want to create something with more of a kick, wouldn't you use dragon parts instead?"

Sighing, he went and sat down at his desk, sinking into the comfortable chair, another of Lucius' gifts.

"Yes, but dragons are so difficult to harvest and so damn expensive that even Lucius can't buy the amount it would take to experiment and create something viable."

She smiled and sat on his desk, normally something he scowled over but she found herself getting away with it more and more. She was hiding something behind her back, but he trusted her enough not to immediately hex her.

"What if I could get us dragon parts for only a quarter of the price?"

He frowned and glanced sideways at her. "How?"

"Remember my little gang in Hogwarts? Morrigan married a duke in Romania and Genevieve got a spot in the Ministry's department of illegal animal trade."

"And they're fencing poached dragons up here?" he asked. "We shouldn't do anything that could jeopardize Lucius' standing in the Ministry."

"That's the beauty of it," she said. "Morrigan's husband is the one who signs off and stamps any dragons coming out of the country. As far as the Ministry and Romania know, they're completely legal."

Now she brought her hand from behind her back. A jar sat in her hand, not a little perfume bottle but a container so large that he would have used it for common cobwebs. It would have been ridiculous if not sealed with wax and the Duke Dermail's sigil mark.

There was no mistaking it for a fake. Romanian Longhorn blood shimmered like rubies and sparkled like diamonds, worth far more than either. The amount of blood in the jar passed from abundant to obscene.

"Would this be enough?" she asked, sounding far too smug for her own good.

"We'll need a cauldron," he started. "And my notebook, there was something I thought up but didn't have the materials--"

He was up and out of his chair, gathering bottles haphazardly into a cauldron he used as a basket. Narcissa watched with a grin, carefully holding her dragon's blood on her lap. When he went to clear space on floor for the fire, however, she cleared her throat.

"Um, Severus," she said, "shouldn't we do this up in the greenhouse?"

"What?" He followed her look to large cauldron and remembered where he was. "Oh, right. Yes. But we can't leave it unattended. I'll take everything to the greenhouse. Get Lucius down here and bring the dragon's blood with you as soon as you can."

Which was how Lucius ended up in the workshop, sitting at the desk with his stack of paperwork looking bewildered as to how he got there and deathly afraid to touch anything.

"If somethin happens," Narcissa said, sliding the handmirror across the desk to her husband, "just use this. It'll show you Severus and I, and you can summon us."

"A looking glass?" he said as he took it. "Since when do we have one? Was this yours? It looks a little familiar..."

She kissed his cheek and left.

In the greenhouse, she found that Severus had already set up the cauldron and its fire beneath an ominous black circle charred into the ceiling. It was from her first explosion, and she hadn't the heart to remove it. She'd never brewed anything dangerous enough to explode until she married into the Malfoys.

"I have a vague idea for something that might remove scars," he said, too occupied with pouring alcohol into a mortar to look up at her. "But I was never sure how the ingredients would react with dragon's blood."

His notebook lay open beside him, and she looked over the recipe with growing concern.

"You're going to add another circle to the ceiling," she warned, although she didn't step out of blast range. "Dragon blood makes alcohol burst into flames."

"Normally," he agreed. "But alcohol is also rendered inert when mixed with rowan and a unicorn's hair."

Now she did back up.

"Rowan?" she breathed. "You have rowan in your workshop? Aren't you dark enough to feel its effects yet?"

"Of course," he said. "But only one berry is needed and the addition of smoke of burned mistletoe will neutralize the effect it has on us."

"The unicorn's hair won't purify the mistletoe's poison?" she asked.

"It will already be weakened by the dragon's blood," he said. "Now you see why I'm not sure this will work? There are so many forces acting against each other that I don't know if it will mix properly."

"Or rip itself apart," she added. "I don't suppose you have any virgin's blood to calm it all down?"

"I have it here," he said, "but it's new and I don't want to find out if the virgin was lying right now."

Narcissa watched the ingredients come together, bubbling furiously. It glowed bright red with sparks playing along its surface. As seconds flew by, the cauldron began to rock back and forth with the violence of the swirling.

"It isn't slowing," she said, backing away.

"Give it time," he said. "There's a chance--"

Downstairs in the workshop, Lucius looked up from his paperwork as the manor rumbled wih the sound of a muffled whump. He tightened his hand on his quill and ignored it as best he could, hoping his spouses were not destroying the greenhouse.

"It's all right," he muttered to himself. "They're fine. The house is fine. They're getting along, that's the main thing."

A burst of bubbles from the cauldron startled him. Lucius gazed at it, wondering if that was normal. More bubbles rose to the surface, popping as they hit the air. Dark red, the bubbles looked like wine swirling in a glass.

Lucius stood and moved closer, afraid to touch it for fear of doing something wrong.

Back in the greenhouse, Severus and Narcissa glanced at each other, both drenched red with little orange sparks still fizzing on them. Narcissa glanced down at her dress, a peacock blue that now looked a common work frock, but she didn't complain.

"I think we'll need the virgin's blood after all," she said.

"Yes, I think so," he agreed.

It took two more tries before they had a potion that didn't explode and another after that for the ingredients to mix. Narcissa watched him work, subtly altering the proportions, and she grabbed a quill and parchment to jot down the amounts he used, the temperature of the fire and the times he added it all together.

"I think..." he said at last, giving the potion one last stir. "I think this may be it. Could you unbutton my cuff?"

"What?" She glanced down as he offered his wrist to her, then back at him with wide eyes. "You want to test it on yourself? Rowan and poison and dragon's blood? You know dragon's blood can burn."

"I won't test it on you," he said, "or Lucius. Besides, it should be fine. If the worst happens, it should rinse off easily."

She frowned. "The worst" could range from a little sting to an acid burn, but she undid his cuff and rolled the sleeve for him.

His skin showed her why he didn't worry about a burn. He already bore a scar that she imagined came from scalding water, weak and twisted. She didn't flinch, knowing that would just embarass them both, but she knew how badly it must have hurt.

"Potion accident?" she asked, tucking the sleeve back.

"My muggle father," he said without emotion.

That, she couldn't hide her reaction to. She closed her eyes and held his hand a little tighter.

"It's so strange to me," she whispered. "Even monsters take care of their children."

"Not all of them."

He put his hand over the cauldron, hesitating for just a moment. She took advantage of it and dipped two fingers into the mix before he could, then streaked the potion across his burned skin.

"How long do you think it will--oh!"

She gasped. The scar didn't disappear, but the color lightened a shade and the edges smoothed slightly. It was like watching the first part of a healing charm moving the skin before her eyes. His hiss of pain before he could stop himself told her it had to be as painful.

"It worked," she whispered.

"Marginally," he said, forcing himself to breathe steadily. "Multiple treatments will probably be required. But it actually improved."

"Not like that snakeoil they sell in Ishtar's Beauty Parlor," she said softly. "Is there any way to ease the pain?"

"Not without destabilizing the entire potion," he said, rolling the sleeve down again. He took a deep breath and looked at her. "But it works."

She smiled. "Then let's bottle it quickly, in case it decides to explode."

"I don't think it will," he said, but he didn't sound sure of that. He watched as she poured the potion into a bottle and corked it.

"Perfect," she said, and setting it between them. She picked up a label and a quill. "Now we just need to name it."

"Why a name?" Severus asked. "Vanishing cream is fine."

She smiled at him like an angel.

"Because men are vain creatures."

Confused, he glanced at his reflection in the greenhouse glass--limp hair, pale skin, and unfashionable robes--then raised an eyebrow at her. She laughed her understanding.

"You're vain about your work," she clarified, pushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "Your bedragglement is just part of that. You've mastered potions so completely that it's how you show your worth. Your appearance doesn't matter, since you measure yourself by your skill."

"But Lucius isn't as practical as we are. His head is full of politics, of surfaces and how things are perceived. There is no way in hell he'll come anywhere near something called vanishing cream. It sounds like something a woman would use."

"Ah." Severus leaned back in his chair. "But with a name like Serpent's Blood?"

"Exactly," she said. "Something that appeals to his ego and that he won't make a face about. I like the serpent idea, but blood usually refers to liquor. I can tell you don't drink. Serpent's Rejuvenation--there, it even has an oblique reference to shedding skin. He'll like that. What do you think?"

"I think I'll have you sell our potions to Knockturn alley," he said. "I can't come up with good names."

"Remember that when it comes time to name our child," she said.

"Well, we still have a few days before that happens," he said. "Did you have something in mind--?"

There was a knock on the open glass door. They both stopped and looked, and then froze. Narcissa stopped breathing for a moment and Severus stared in open-mouthed awe.

In the doorway, Lucius held a baby in his hands, awkwardly trying to find a better position. He looked up at Narcissa and Severus at a loss.

"He just rose up," Lucius said, still in a daze. "He came up and held his arms out, and I couldn't help it. I picked him up and--and--what do I do now?"

Narcissa gathered her wits first, running to his side and gently taking her son, cradling him against herself. She looked over his body, counting limbs and fingers and making sure he didn't have a tail or fur.

"Is he--?" Severus said, unable to move.

"He's perfect," she whispered. "You did it. He's perfect."

"I have no idea what to name him," Lucius said. He touched his son's hand, allowing him to grab his finger. "I thought it would take longer."

"So did I," Severus murmured. He finally went to them, staring at the wide gray eyes that looked at all of them in wonder. "But the schedule isn't always exact."

"Draco," Narcissa said, ignoring them for a moment. "My son. Draco Malfoy."

"Draco..." Lucius mused.

It was entirely in his power to overrule her. As head of the family, naming the child fell to him and tradition demanded certain concessions. But the look on her face, enraptured by a child that should have been impossible for her, made him want to continue showering gifts upon her.

"He's going to need diapers," Severus said, breaking into both their thoughts. He warily eyed the child, as if afraid it might explode. "And a crib."

Narcissa frowned. "Severus, our child's just been born. Aren't you happy? You look absolutely dour."

"There are practical considerations we have to address," he insisted. "Clothes, food, a high chair, toys...the sooner, the better."

Lucius leaned down to whisper in Narcissa's ear.

"He'll spoil Draco in his own way, don't worry," he assured her. "Why don't I go round up everything we need at Hogsmeade, and you can order him about getting the nursery ready?"

"Oh," she smiled, "that sounds perfect. Everything in green and white, yes?"

"Of course," Lucius said. "And Sev', you might want to climb up to the attic and see if we have a crib or other furniture. I noticed you found my great aunt Savka's mirror. Anything we have for infants will likely be in the same corner."

"Of course," Severus said softly, inwardly quailing. In his excitement over dragon's blood, he'd forgotten that he'd left the handmirror on his desk. Lucius knew, then, that he'd spied on them occasionally. Severus reminded himself that he'd have to assure Lucius that he only spied at certain times, never during more intimate moments with Narcissa.

"You'd best get going before he starts crying," Narcissa said to Lucius, accepting a quick kiss on her cheek before he went. Then she rounded on Severus, her look wild and excited and eager to begin work.

Severus couldn't help a small smile. Her eagerness was infectious.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 3**

A week later, their boundless excitement was tempered by the cruel practicalities Severus had mentioned before.

Draco was sensitive to wool. All his wool jumpers and socks and hats had to be replaced with cotton, and his irritated crying was soothed with anti-allergy creams and a soft bird toy that chirped when held.

Food also became an issue. Draco despised anything that wasn't sweet. Narcissa found herself wearing more of his dinner than he ate while trying to distract him from spitting by waving his bird around.

Night and day made no difference to Draco, either, and if he was awake, then he wanted someone to play with. The bird toy in his crib was not enough, and Severus and Narcissa rotated climbing out of bed to reassure Draco that he wasn't alone. Usually they aimed dark glares at Lucius, fast asleep on his side of the bed. If he hadn't been working from sun up to sun down fighting a new proposal to increase taxes on rented properties, they might have bullied him into taking his own share of the work. But the dark circles under his eyes rivaled the circles under theirs, and they knew suffering when they saw it.

Raising a child was infinitely preferable to working in government. When Draco whined and spit up and needed a new diaper, at least he was cute about it.

But no one knew how loud Draco could wail until it came time for his first teeth to peek through. The wyvern's blood in him showed itself in the ridges on his baby teeth, useful for cracking eggs but merely painful for a human child. Silencio couldn't be used. People, especially children, panicked when they couldn't hear their own screams of pain. Strong painkilling potions were impossible for an infant.

The cries went on for days and only stopped when Draco exhausted himself. That he couldn't help crying only made their frustration that much more unbearable. And St. Mungo's wouldn't prescribe the remedies that might have worked without examining Draco first.

"You can only make Baby's Breath powder in large doses," Severus repeated at the dinner table, once again answering Lucius as to why he couldn't do anything. "Huge vats of it. And the Ministry regulates how much pixie dust can be bought at one time. I can't gather that kind of amount and if we tried to buy what's needed, we'd have aurors on the doorstep within the hour."

Narcissa sighed and hefted Draco into his chair, drying his tears with a napkin and giving him another teething ring. The cold only lowered his volume a little, and Draco had only napped during lunch. When she handed him off to Severus and went to the garden to catch sleep for herself, she found that the walls only muffled the crying.

"God, there has to be something," Lucius moaned, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Were you as bad as this?" Narcissa asked, and she had to raise her voice to be heard over Draco.

"According to my mother, I was worse," Lucius answered with a grumble. "And they soldiered through it, or so her portrait swears. But that was nearly forty years ago! Surely something's been discovered since then."

"Not many wyvern crossbreeds to experiment on," Severus snapped.

"Maybe something should've been done when he was still in the cauldron," Narcissa sighed. "I thought you said you altered the potion."

The slight to Severus' skills stung, and he retaliated in kind.

"I never expected anything like this. And I thought women were good with children," Severus muttered not quite under his breath.

Narcissa looked up in hurt, then scowled. "I thought a potions master would make a child, not a banshee."

"Stop it," Lucius warned them, one hand pressed against his head.

"Certainly," Severus said in a far too agreeable voice. "Not like we can be heard over his wailing and her snapping."

"As if anything could get a word in edgewise with you," she all but hissed.

"Both of you, stop it!"

"How?" she demanded, turning on Lucius. "Does the master of the house have any bright ideas?"

"I meant your bickering," Lucius clarified. "I haven't the slightest how to quiet the--"

"Of course not," Severus said. "Since when do you help with Draco?"

"I have to mind two other infants in this house," Lucis snapped, and his voice grew louder with each word. "And your childishness is not helping anything--"

"How dare you call me childish--"

"I'm only defending myself--"

"For the love of God!"

None of them would ever admit who threw the first volley. They all seemed to reach for their plates at once. A spoonful of mashed potatoes, the contents of a glass of pumpkin juice--Narcissa snatched the tray of treacle tarts while Lucius managed to steal the wine carafe out of Severus' reach. Ducking a flying tart, Severus had to settle for the basket of biscuits, the smallest arsenal of the three.

When Lucius got lucky with the carafe, showering Narcissa, she retaliated with the rest of the tarts and the tray itself, which went clattering to the floor, followed soon by a gravy boat that narrowly missed Lucius' head. The biscuits caught her full in the face, momentarily blinding her with the basket. Without missing a beat, she ran her hand across the table and grabbed the first thing she touched--her lemonade, which she cast in a wide arc. Two roars of indignation told her she'd struck true.

Infurated, Lucius grabbed the napkin holder and aimed at Narcissa just as she got the basket off. She ducked as the wooden ring went through a window and napkins fluttered everywhere.

Fingerbowls followed in three directions, all of them hitting their mark as they were too busy throwing to duck. As the last dishes went sailing, smashing on the floor or against the wall, a final furious wave of Lucius' wand sent all the silverware into the air as the tablecloth went flying.

With nothing left to hurl, the fight seemed to leave the room. Panting, Narcissa stared at both of them in shock, arms slightly out as she took stock first of her soaked dress and then of their soaked hair. Her immaculate French twist had avoided damage, but Lucius' ribbon had fallen askew and Severus' hair hung drenched in his face.

As they all caught their breath, they noticed the silence and turned to Draco in his high chair. Smiling, he gnawed on a corner of treacle tart that had fallen in his lap. He looked at each of them as if he expected the show to continue.

Lucius took a deep breath, held it, and let go. Narcissa and Severus glanced at him, then at each other. Neither of them knew what to do. Neither dared speak. Talking had gotten them into this mess. They looked as if the other would know what to do, and when they didn't see any answers, glanced back at Lucius.

"Filly, Dobby," Lucius said softly.

The two elves appeared with a pop, looking around the mess and then at Lucius in terror.

"Yes, master?" Filly said.

"Fresh drinks and that pizza thing Severus has hidden in the pantry," he ordered.

Startled, Severus gathered his wits enough to mention to the elves that the instructions were on the box before Filly and Dobby disappeared again. How long had his husband known? Severus hadn't been able to completely give up some muggle food. He wondered if Lucius knew about the soda in the back?

Lucius sat down and tucked away his wand. After a moment, Narcissa and Severus followed suit, still afraid to speak. As their new drinks appeared, Narcissa hid behind her lemonade.

"I trust everyone is all right?" Lucius said.

They both nodded. And then she giggled. She tried to squash it down, but another one escaped before she could.

"I'm glad you're so happy," Severus said without any sarcasm. "Considering your dress..."

"What, the wine?" she asked, waving one hand as if it was nothing. "We're not muggles, dear, it won't stain. No, I was laughing because--thank God we weren't in the library."

He leaned back and looked at her with a faint smile. "We would've brained each other with books."

"No," Lucius sighed. "She would be on the floor. She goes for the biggest thing to throw, but the Dictionary of Potions would have sent her backwards."

Severus looked around at the wine dripping from the ceiling and the sour cream on the broken window. He didn't know how the elves would get the room all clean again.

"I always thought purebloods were so refined," he admitted. "Straight-laced."

"I am," Narcissa said. "I couldn't throw as hard as I wanted because my corset's laced so tight."

With a light laugh, he picked up one of the clean napkins and dried his face, pushing his hair aside. The pizza arrived a moment later, sliced into squares instead of triangles. Severus decided not to correct them. The elves had done well, all things considered. If his lovers didn't complain about the strange muggle dish of cheese and bread, he wouldn't say anything.

To his delight, they both seemed to like pepperoni.

By the time dinner was truly over, the sun had set and the windows were dark. Lucius and Narcissa bathed first while Severus minded Draco, then went in once Lucius left the master bath free. By the time Narcissa came out of the guest bath, Severus was just barely visible in the bathroom doorway as he toweled his hair dry. He'd wrapped a towel around his waist and nothing else.

She stopped, draped in her sheer pink nightgown, and stared at him. Either he had finally grown comfortable enough around her to not worry about his looks or else he hadn't noticed the door was partially open.

"Oh my," she breathed, glancing at Lucius. "So that's how he caught your eye."

Lucius followed her look to the bathroom and smiled.

"Yes," Lucius nodded. "He hides a rather nice physique under those robes. But truthfully, I have to thank one of my contacts in Slytherin for arranging our meeting."

"You still keep contacts in Hogwarts?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and watching Severus unabashedly. His scars stood out, deep ones on his shoulders and side, rivaling the ones Lucius wore on his back.

"It's the easiest way to find new recruits," he said. "When it became obvious just how talented he was with potions, I told Avery to send him to meet me in the Boar's Head."

A shadow crossed his face. It was impossible not to notice, and she leaned closer so they could whisper.  
"What was he like?" she asked.

"A kicked dog," he said. "Years of abuse from his father and then from the students...it was months before I saw him smile."

Narcissa glanced at the bathroom--Severus was nearly done--and then back at Lucius.

"What happened to his father? His mother?"

"Both are dead," Lucius answered. "From what I could gather afterward--and you must never let on that we know the truth, he prefers to let me believe the lie--his father killed his mother, and Severus killed him."

"What's the lie?" she asked. "That it was an accident?"

"That his father committed suicide," Lucius said. "That after stabbing her--"

She shuddered. At least the killing curse was painless. Muggle means of killing scared her much more.

"--Tobias Snape stabbed himself. But the aurors investigating didn't recognize the scars on his body. They didn't know what it looks like when you heal the dead."

Narcissa leaned back as she thought. Usually people didn't try to heal the dead unless they were frantic family members who couldn't accept the sudden loss. Dark wizards might heal a corpse to bind up deep gashes so body parts didn't fall off during transport, but a sticenia spell left deep furrows on a body that an auror might never have seen.

If Severus had to heal the body, that meant that he hadn't used his wand. He'd used a knife, probably the same knife as his father. And to heal the body to hide the murder--she put her hand to her mouth. He must have stabbed him several times.

The Severus she knew was quiet, brilliant, and a little sardonic once he opened up. She couldn't imagine him driven to such an extreme. She couldn't imagine him killing in a frenzy like a muggle.

In a perverse way, it reassured her. She had two husbands who could kill, both of whom she knew wouldn't recoil from messy work if it had to be done. If Draco ever needed someone to protect him, Severus could be counted upon.

But Severus was done in the bathroom, stepping out with a faint yawn.

"What are you two whispering about?" Severus asked as he joined them on the bed.

"You," she said with a teasing smile, changing from her serious mood. "Your muggle habits. They're so cute."

"What?" He looked over his shoulder at the bathroom. "What did I do this time? I thought--"

"The towel around your waist," Lucius clarified. "I assume that's a muggle habit. I'd never seen until I met you."

"Neither have I," Narcissa said, and her smile turned broader as he looked away in discomfit. "But I like the effect. Your robes are far too modest. Lucius, you should get him something a bit more ostentatious."

"I can dress myself, thank you," Severus said, but there was no heat in his voice. It was hard to get angry with them when they wanted to force gifts on him. "Draco is asleep, yes?"

"Thank God, yes," she said. "For the next few hours at least. Poor baby. I wish I could make it easier on him."

"Mm."

Severus hesitated. He desperately wanted to speak, but he'd seen enough movies of mad scientists to know that there were some things one simply didn't ask permission for. Even dark wizards drew the line at experimentation on their own children, no matter how benevolent the reason.

"I won't have you afraid to ask questions of us," Lucius said, reading his look. "What are you thinking?"

"No, I shouldn't," Severus shook his head. "Please forget it. I shouldn't have even considered it."

"At least let us know what your idea was," she said. "I'll die of curiosity otherwise."

"I thought of trying wyvern eggs," he said when she wouldn't relent. "But it doesn't matter. Even if I boiled them, they wouldn't lose all their venom."

"Why wyvern eggs?" Lucius asked.

"I thought perhaps some instinct in his blood was making Draco try to bite through an eggshell, that part of the pain was simply psychosomatic." When they stared blankly at him, he corrected himself. "That the pain is in his head. He's trying to break free and he's scared because he can't."

"Hm. Snake shells are too thin. What about an opaleye shell?" Narcissa said. "It's closest in texture and it isn't poisonous at all."

"I can't get those here," he said. "They're untradeable."

She smiled like an angel at him. "Not for my girls. I'll owl Morrigan tomorrow. If we're lucky, she might have one on hand already."

Moving slowly so he wouldn't shy away, she put her hand on his cheek and made him look at her.

"And if it doesn't work, we'll try the wyvern eggs, even if we only find out we can't boil all the poison from them." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "We trust you. You should let us trust you more often."

"I promised I would never hurt you," Lucius murmured. "I hope you know that my faith in you is part of that."

Severus fell silent. It was too much. She knew they'd overwhelmed him when he couldn't speak for a moment. How could he accept so much from them when he'd never been given anything by anyone else? She felt such delight with him, sarcastic and infuriating and painfully brittle underneath.

Taking mercy on him, she waved the candlelight away and in the darkness drew him close.

She thought about her two husbands. Lucius, a considerate brat trying to do his best by two high-strung lovers, and Severus, who she doubted would fully lose his awkward nervousness with his family. Between them, Narcissa thought to herself that arranged marriages could make life interesting indeed.

To be concluded...


	5. Chapter 5

**Epilogue**

She had paced the entire manor twice. Whispering prayers as she walked, she stopped by Draco's room and glanced in as she had every five minutes, reassuring herself that he was safe. He was only a year old, too young to understand why so many people had been invited to dinner, or why he got so many extra sweets afterwards. Halloween was her favorite holiday aside from Christmas, and there had been great confidence in the handful of knights as they put on their death eater masks. As tense as the party had grown, there'd been an air of optimism and hope.

A hand of glory burned on the nightstand by Draco's bed. She bent and blew out the flames on the fingertips, taking the hand with her as she left.

All of their dark artifacts lay in the hidden chamber beneath their dining room. She added the hand to the pile and closed the trap door, rolling the carpet back over and setting the table on it again. If aurors came to raid the house, they would not find it easily.

But why would aurors come this night? Lucius and Severus would return. She had to believe that.

Tonight should have been a simple raid, a quick attack on a Wizengamot judge. It shouldn't have lasted five minutes.

Lucius had gone first, summoned by his dark mark as the time for the assault grew near. When fifteen minutes had passed, Severus had begun to pace the main hall. When twenty minutes passed, his own mark had burned black. With a muttered curse, he had put on his mask and apparated away.

Twenty minutes had passed since then.

She hugged herself and looked again at the fire place. The elves should have kept the fire going, but she had sent them away to do the task herself. The flames burned steadily in case her husbands would floo home. Otherwise they apparate home, but apparation during a fight was far different than when there was time to pause and concentrate. Breaking into a shop or home to floo was sometimes the only escape, and a floo could be followed.

Why was it taking so long? Kill one judge and his family. It should take longer to send the dark mark in the sky than to do the deed.

If she had to, she would gather Draco and run to their Paris apartments. If the aurors broke down the door and stormed the house, she would gather Draco and apparate to the forest outside the manor, and then to the London apartment only she and and Bella knew of. If the aurors came tonight, all she had left was her son and her sister.

If aurors came tonight, that meant that Severus and Lucius were dead, their masks torn away and their dark marks revealed.

She couldn't sit down. She couldn't stand. She couldn't walk. She couldn't look in on Draco. She couldn't not look in on Draco. She couldn't stare out the windows. She couldn't stare at the walls.

The portraits watched her float by and whispered cold comforts.

Finally the book in her pocket scratched to life.

She pulled it out and opened it, not noticing that the portraits had gone silent and were watching attentively. The book was a match to one that every wife and sister of a Knight of Walpurgis kept. Each family had women that did not wear the mark in an attempt to preserve their name and property if Voldemort failed. There were dark families scattered everywhere. Someone had to be watching the battle from an attic window or from the air as an animagus. Handwritten letters burned into the page, scribbled hastily but appearing painfully slowly to her.

_Ambush._

_Aurors were waiting._

_Reinforcements called on both sides._

Narcissa waited, but nothing more came. She couldn't close the book, desperate that it could come back to life at any moment. For long minutes she stood and waited.

Had it been Severus? She cursed her traitorous thoughts. No, Severus was dark. He belonged to them now. He may have been called to serve as a double agent, but he was loyal to the Malfoy family if nothing else. He would never--

_Both sides using Unforgivables._

_Many dead._

She read the line again. The silence of the manor pressed on her. If she heard the slightest step at the door, she would go. Any moment now, she expected the next line in her book to be the signal for all of them to escape. Run. Scatter. Paris. Berlin. Prague. Your knights are dead and the aurors are hunting.

_Fire in Hogsmeade._

_Eddleton's house destroyed._

Narcissa took heart in that. The fight was still raging. There were still Death Eaters alive and trying to finish off the Wizengamot judge.

_Dark Mark in the sky._

_Fog's summoned._

Narcissa's heart leapt into her throat. Summoning fog was a dark spell. They were trying to escape. The knights were trying to get far enough from the aurors and the judge's house to apparate.

No more messages came. Perhaps the writer's knight had made it home to her. After a moment, Narcissa set the book back in her pocket and sat down by the fireplace to wait. She stared at the flames, closed her eyes in prayer, then stared at the flames again.

The fire suddenly roared and hot ashes spilled across the stones onto the carpet as a masked death eater rolled out, coming up on one knee and pointing his wand back at the fire. Narcissa stood and backed away, afraid that someone might follow. His mask showed a streak along its side where a spell had come close to burning his face off.

A minute passed. The death eater caught his breath, slowly relaxing. He whipped off the mask and let the hood fall back, and the sweat-drenched blonde hair revealed how hot the fighting had been. Black grime touched his temples and his forehead, probably from the fog.

"Lucius?" Narcissa whispered.

"They suspected," Lucius growled, standing and heading to his library. "They knew. Somehow they knew we were coming."

She followed him, watching him take a book from the shelf and slam it down on his desk. It looked like one of his many dry lists of proposed legislation from decades back, but the pages inside went blank and instead names began to appear.

"Parkinson, Crabbe, Lestrange..." Lucius whispered to himself. "Avery, Rowle..."

He didn't add his own name to the list. His book was the only master copy. Not even Voldemort knew how they communicated so quickly. Not that the dark lord needed a list when he could summon anyone through the mark, but the knights took care of each other when the dark lord wouldn't. Only a handful more names appeared, and then nothing.

"Damn." He banged his fist on his desk. "Dammit! Three of them! And Vaisey was so damn young..."

Narcissa folded her hands. "And Severus?"

His head snapped up. "He isn't back?"

She shook her head.

"He hasn't sent word?"

"No."

Immediately Lucius' hand went to his ring, but he couldn't risk sending a message. If Severus had been caught, they couldn't let aurors know he was part of their family. If he was with Voldemort, he didn't dare distract him. If he was with the damn Order of the Phoenix, he couldn't risk his cover.

"Is Eddleton dead?" she asked.

"Yes, quite dead," he answered. He sank in his chair and leaned back, staring blankly at the ceiling. "As is his wife. I think his son got away, but in all the confusion I couldn't tell. We didn't even get on the lawn before the fight started."

"How could the aurors have known you were coming?" she whispered.

"It wasn't aurors," Lucius said. "It was Dumbledore's little private army. Although that may ultimately help us. They can't come after us like aurors could."

Narcissa closed her eyes. If it was aurors, then perhaps someone had been arrested and interrogated and told the Ministry about this attack. But if it was the Order, then Severus was the most obvious leak. She didn't want to believe he would betray them, but how else could their plans have been made known?

A clatter from the parlor made her turn and run, ignoring Lucius' shout that it might be an auror. The muttered cursing reassured her that it wasn't before she made it to the room, stopping in time to see one death eater dragging two more along after him. He dropped them onto the floor, then threw aside his own mask.

"Idiots!" Severus snapped. "Running so close that one spell could hit you both! Were you trying to help them win?"

He slapped one's head, stepping over him as he dropped his cloak on the floor. Its edge was torn ragged and its corner was still on fire, but Narcissa didn't care. She ran and threw her arms around him, holding him tight.

"It's all right," he said, holding her in return. "I'm fine. Wait--Lucius, is he--?"

"I'm here," Lucius said from the doorway. He gave Severus a once-over, making sure he was all right. "Any idea how they knew?"

"Yes," Severus said. "Our master let them in on it."

"What?" Lucius hissed.

About to answer him, Severus thought better of it and turned and grabbed the two death eaters he'd brought through. Tossing floo powder into the fire place, he called out "Carrow estate" and sent them tumbling headfirst home. Only when they were alone did he explain.

"We were a distraction, nothing else," Severus said. "Something about the prophecy, he didn't tell me much. Just that while we were killing Eddleton, he had business in London. It was only when I heard the aurors talking amongst themselves that I realized--"

"Order," Lucius corrected. "They were Order of the Phoenix."

"What?" Severus blinked. "No, that can't be right. I only saw aurors, Dawlish, Orthin--"

"I know for a fact I saw the Longbottoms out there," Lucius argued. "Bella almost had her head blasted off by them."

Staring past Lucius, Severus leaned back on his heels in deep thought. The clock ticked in the background, counting off seconds.

"Damn," Severus whispered. "He might suspect me."

"What do you mean?" Lucius asked.

"Dumbledore. He didn't tell me. If the Order was there--you arrived first. There must have been only aurors by the time I arrived."

"Possible," Lucius said, then sighed explosively. "You might be right. The Longbottoms are aurors. We'll have to assume they'll try to retaliate against us. Did anyone hear you come here? I was afraid someone was on my heels."

"No, I confunded the aurors chasing us. I also went to Spinner's End before here, just in case." He sat on the arm of the nearest sofa, pressing his hand to his head. "I don't suppose you might know what our lord was doing while we were distracting every damn auror in England."

"Certainly felt that way, didn't it? No, not the foggiest. Were those the Carrows, by the by?"

"Yes," Severus nodded, "little fools never learned not to bunch up. And before I forget, Vaisey will be late reporting in. I happened to see him as I went past. He's currently pretending to be a stuffed raven in some shop window."

"A stuffed raven?" Narcissa asked, laughing from ridiculousness and the tense mood. "Is that his animagus?"

"Then we lost no one," Lucius said. He reeled from relief. "Thank God."

Narcissa's laughter faded. "Yes, God. Not our master. He isn't a dark lord. He isn't a Morgan or even a Mordred."

"No, he isn't," Lucius said softly. "But could you honestly ally yourself to the Ministry against him?"

None of them answered. The Ministry would lock them all in Azkaban and leave them to rot, Draco included. Better to serve a despot who would give them the world once he was immortal rather than help the Ministry at all.

There was nothing else to say. The death eater masks and cloaks went into their hiding places and they went upstairs, and Lucius and Severus cleansed away the dark magic of the battle before either felt like they could breath freely.

Narcissa sat on the edge of the bed. They joined her there, but they didn't lie down. They sat together, watching the moon and stars turn in the sky and wondering if aurors would come banging on their door.

A white sun rose on gray drizzling skies.

end


End file.
